


Where I Hide

by DistractedDream



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Deathshipping, Drabble Collection, M/M, Not Beta Read, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Requests, Tendershipping, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25295374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistractedDream/pseuds/DistractedDream
Summary: A collection of 5 drabbles featuring Deathshipping and Tendershipping!Chapter 1: Did You Get My Letter? - TendershippingChapter 2: Ace - TendershippingChapter 3: Candles - TendershippingChapter 4: Foolish, Beautiful Creature - DeathshippingChapter 5: Umbrella - Deathshipping
Relationships: Bakura Ryou/Yami Bakura, Bakura Ryou/Yami Marik
Comments: 14
Kudos: 19





	1. Did You Get My Letter?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [letainajup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/letainajup/gifts), [NightlyEchoes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightlyEchoes/gifts), [whiteReaper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiteReaper/gifts).



> I originally posted these over on my Tumblr, called "Where I Hide", and realized I never crossposted them here! These haven't been beta-read, so any errors are my own. I hope you enjoy them!
> 
> Chapter 1 written for NightlyEchoes  
> Chapter 2 written for whiteReaper  
> Chapter 3 solo work  
> Chapters 4 & 5 written for letainajup 
> 
> Comments and kudos are much appreciated and keep me writing! I can be found on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/distractedream) at Distractedream and [Tumblr](https://distracteddream.tumblr.com/), [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/distracteddream/), and [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/distracteddream?si=_Yuds57lRve_hXzKrEF05Q) at DistractedDream.

For Ryou, it was as routine as washing his hair or cleaning his kitchen. On Wednesday nights, he wrote letters to his deceased: his mom, Amane, and now, the spirit of the Ring.

He wouldn’t have tried to explain it. He wouldn’t have even told anyone, each letter burned to ash and smoke until it smudged Ryou’s fingers. The spirit caused such havoc in his life, nearly ruined his friendships, nearly ruined his life, never caring about Ryou’s body. And yet… and yet, Ryou had lived most of his life with this other being sharing his body. He couldn’t simply forget that, act like it never happened, pretend that nothing had changed now that the spirit had left. His friends were content to treat him like he hadn’t been possessed since they’d met him and that he would likewise be content to stay on the fringes on their group now that the spirit was gone.

Ryou stared at his paper. He was lonely and part of him knew that was likely coloring his memories of the spirit. How could it not? He never felt loneliness before, not when he could reach into himself and find another wearing his face on the good days. On the bad days… his soul room wasn’t so awful. He just wished he hadn’t gotten harmed physically quite so much when the spirit had locked him away. He wrote his letter.

_Spirit,_

_I remember. I remember when I got the Ring. I remember my father telling me to pick it up. I remember the first taste of darkness as you pushed me aside and took over. I remember what you did. To Shadi. To those kids. I’d forgotten, but I remember now. But I remember when you tried to take care of me too. When you turned my friends and tormentors into dolls. You were very broken, weren’t you? Millennia in that Ring with that darkness, I’m not sure I blame you. But I forgive you. I remember and I forgive you. You’re truly gone now. What manifested in Aigami was pure darkness. It wasn’t you. You were always some mix of me, your soul, and whatever the darkness had made your soul become. At least, if the darkness is still in the Ring, I hope it means that you’re freed from it. I pray for you still. I pray that you’re resting. I pray that the darkness doesn’t touch you anymore. I pray that you’re somewhere pharaohs and duels and shadows have no power. I pray you’re happy. I’m trying to be._ _  
_

He wiped at his eyes. What was it about writing to the spirit that always made his heart ache?

  
 _We’re graduating soon. I’ve gotten an internship with Kaiba for game development. Something about the diorama must have impressed him so we’re seeing if there’s a way to merge my traditional tabletopping with his technology. I wish you were still here to see it. I think, without the darkness, you would have wanted me to succeed. Maybe we would have been friends. I miss you. I doesn’t get any better, but writing gives me peace. I hope my letter gives you peace too. I’ll write again next week._ _  
_

Grabbing his lighter and the letter, Ryou stood from his desk and stretched. The moon was new but it was Wednesday and he’d already burned the letters for his family. He shivered as a chill went up his spine and settled on the floor, his candles already in position. He’d carved “Spirit” into the white one in the center, pressing his memories and complicated emotions for the spirit, his spirit, into the wax to ensure he didn’t contact some other spirit or worse. He lit the blue candles at the directional points before lighting the white one. Folding up the letter, he placed a tender kiss to it and held it over the flame.

It was routine. His routine. Write the letter. Burn the letter. Clean up. Nothing deviated from that routine.

Until tonight.

As the flames devoured the letter, leaving nothing but black behind where they’d once been white, a loud noise, like a door slamming, filled Ryou’s bedroom, the candles sputtering and dying. Ryou sat there on the floor, unmoving, the air in the room becoming a tangible weight, cold against his skin. He swallowed, flicking his lighter on. For all his heart was in his throat, he wasn’t surprised to see his mirror image standing before him. Well, almost mirror. The hair was different, the eyes were dark, and he tilted his head curiously at Ryou, as someone would do to another person known but unable to be placed. Ryou waited, waited until the spirit’s eyes widened, his voice distorted and direct in Ryou’s ear even for the distance between them.

“Ryou?”

Ryou smiled fondly at his spirit. “Did you get my letter?”


	2. Ace

“It really doesn’t do anything for you?” Bakura paused the video on Ryou’s laptop and leaned back against the headboard. He picked the most generic porn he could find, pretty enough to titillate, bland enough not to be MST3K-worthy. He looped his arm around Ryou’s shoulders and yeah, he had to spread his legs to ease the pressure on his boner, but if Ryou wasn’t into it, Bakura could ignore it. He stroked through Ryou’s hair. “Maybe if we watched a gay porno?”

Ryou sunk back into Bakura’s side, resting his head on his shoulder. It wasn’t that porn, or sex, disgusted him. It simply didn’t do anything for him. At most, he could appreciate the aesthetics of it but he wasn’t interested. “I’ve tried. I’ve tried vanilla and kinky and straight and gay and orgies and erotica and YouPorn and lad mags and nothing. I’m just not interested.” His fingers picked nervously at Bakura’s jeans. “Am I broken? Is there something wrong with me?”

Bakura’s hand froze in Ryou’s hair, sitting up. “What?! No. Fuck no!” He caught Ryou’s chin. He needed to look into Ryou’s eyes. He needed Ryou to understand that Bakura might have been an ass, but he was completely serious now. “You are not broken. There’s nothing wrong with you. With being asexual.” Bakura kissed Ryou’s forehead, pressing his lips there as though he could banish those thoughts. “Sex, or no sex, doesn’t define you.”

He didn’t want to tear up. He didn’t. But Bakura’s tenderness had him clenching his jaw and closing his eyes, fighting back his emotions. “But everyone…” His words choked in his throat. Ryou had never had a long-term relationship. Once his boyfriends started hinting that they wanted to make the relationship physical, Ryou had always cut and run. Bakura was the first guy he’d dated that Ryou had told he was asexual. He expected to Bakura to ditch him, to say he couldn’t deal with that, but Bakura had come over instead, had pulled Ryou onto the bed, and talked to him about it. Which lead to Bakura trying to learn more, in his own way, which was why they’d been watching porn. And now, rather than being frustrated or trying to convince Ryou to feel something he didn’t, he was comforting Ryou’s insecurities. A few tears slipped free and Ryou hated it even though he was happy about it.

“Fuck everyone. Only, you know, not,” Bakura tried to joke. He nosed at Ryou’s hair, pulling him back down onto the bed with him. “So you’re asexual. So what?”

“You really don’t mind?” It hurt to hope. His chest physically ached with it. But he hoped. God, he hoped.

Bakura didn’t say anything for a moment. “…will you mind if I jack off? Alone, obviously. I won’t ask you to watch or help or anything.” Ryou nodded, hair bunching up and quickly smoothed down by Bakura’s gentle touch. Bakura took a deep breath. “Ryou. I’m falling in love with you. Something like this isn’t going to send me running. I want this to work. I want us to work. I’m not going to leave you over this.” Ryou couldn’t speak, clinging to Bakura in gratitude. “Hey! Does this mean you wanted me for my sparkling personality and not my fantastic ass? That’s a first.”

Ryou laughed lightly, propping himself to look down at Bakura, his hair curtaining around them. “You ass.” He kissed him tenderly. “And Bakura?” He made a soft noise, smiling charmingly up at him. “I’m falling for you too.”


	3. Candles

“What are you doing?” The spirit’s voice echoed in Ryou’s head, somehow deeper than his own and colder. “Lighting candles.” The Brit didn’t need to answer the spirit aloud but they were alone in the church and Ryou liked having someone to talk to. He carefully lit another candle, the red glass votive glowing as the flame caught. Ryou could hear the sneer in the spirit’s voice. “They have electricity. Why are you bothering with this?” “We light candles in prayer for people we know.” He caught another flame and lit another votive. “Or those who have passed on. The smoke lifts the prayer to heaven. Though I suppose that’s really a matter of faith.” The spirit watches quietly as Ryou sets almost the entire display aflame. “Why so many?” The young man points with the stick to the first two candles he’d lit. “For my mom and Amane.” He slowly sweeps the stick over the rest of the candles. “For Kul Elna.” The spirit’s emotions rush through them both, too strong to be hidden bound as they are. Ryou’s hand trembles as he lights one final candle. “For you.”


	4. Foolish, Beautiful Creature

He collapsed back onto the ground, heedless of anything more than the muscle fatigue holding him down and the blood drying on his skin. The sounds of the skirmish faded in and out around him and Tacari wasn’t sure if he was losing consciousness or if the fighting was moving away. He couldn’t move, amethyst eyes on the trees above him, blood sticking his blonde lashes together. He didn’t know how much of the blood was his and how much belonged to warriors cut down by his khopesh.

If he died here in this godsforsaken foreign land, he supposed it wouldn’t matter.

Tacari stirred, the din of battle replaced by distant music. Camp, perhaps? A shadow blocked his view of the leaves and sky and he groaned, reaching up. He needed to show he was alive, that he wanted healing if it would be offered. The shadow shifted away and he felt the earth move under him, rolling to his side and vomiting with the sudden onset of dizziness. The shadow returned as Tacari flopped onto his back. He blinked, white hair falling around a grinning face coming into focus above him. “Hello there.”

“Hello?” Tacari coughed the dust from his lungs. “I need help. Don’t…”

The white haired boy, for he looked too young and too sweet to be a man, laughed and Tacari’s mouth twitched, unable not to smile at the sound. “You’re quite whole. What are you doing in my ring?”

“Your ring?” Tacari pushed himself up. His body still felt sore but as he looked at his bare arms, the numerous cuts from the fight scarred over. He scowled as he scanned the area. He couldn’t see any campfires nearby. He couldn’t see anything beyond the closest trees. It was pitch black – except for the luminescent mushrooms surrounding him and the ethereal glow from the boy who plopped himself down in front of him, still grinning.

“You’re not from here.” His finger trailed down Tacari’s arm, milky skin contrasting his darker tone, made even deeper by sun exposure and filth. “Why are you fighting a war that isn’t yours?”

The words flowed from his tongue before Tacari could think better of it. “Because if it doesn’t stop here, one day it will come to my land.” He frowned and ran a hand through his blonde locks, clumps of dirt and blood falling out of it. “Which side are you on? How far is your camp?”

The boy’s grin only widened. “I am on my own side and you are sitting in my camp, as you would call it.”

Dread sank into Tacari’s bones. The circle of fungi. The music. The strange shift in time and place. And an angelic boy in the forest, too pure and too young. He swallowed, throat dry as though he hadn’t had water in an age. He began to wonder if he hadn’t. “Who are you?”

“Names have power, so I think I will be keeping that to myself for now. Though I think you already suspect what I am.” His eyes flashed red and Tacari’s fingers dug into the ground, head swimming. “You’re a foolish creature…” The fae’s grin sharpened as he looked over the mortal. “But a beautiful one. I think I’ll keep you for awhile.”


	5. Umbrella

“I told you I didn’t want your help.” Marik’s yami snarled over his shoulder at Ryou as he continued picking through the coffee shop’s dumpster. His hands were filthy, bloody from where he’d scraped them on similar dives, but damnit, he was hungry. Apparently being cast out of the Shadows, resurrected into your own body, and thrust into the world worked up an appetite. “HA!” He held up a bag of old bagels victoriously. “See? Now run along.”

Ryou tilted his head to the side. Since he’d run into Marik’s yami, literally, a few days ago, he’d been checking on him, finding that he wanted to help him. To Ryou’s mind, Marik’s yami had done terrible things, yes, but he’d never been given a choice for anything different. So Ryou saw himself as the yami’s choice: stay as he was or actually become his own person. Ryou tossed his hair back and readjusted his school satchel on his shoulder. “I’ve never doubted you could take care of yourself. You took care of Marik all those years, after all.” Marik’s yami paused with a bagel between his teeth. “What should I call you?”

Marik’s yami ripped off a piece of the bagel with his teeth, chewed, and swallowed, his eyes on Ryou the whole time. That Ryou didn’t so much as shift in the silence drew a little respect for him from the yami. But only a little. “Marik. You know that. Don’t be stupid.”

“But you’re not Marik.”

The yami growled. “I am, Bakura.” He emphasized the name, pointedly reminding Ryou again that he wasn’t the Bakura the yami was familiar with. His teeth tore into the bagel viciously as he waited for Ryou to argue with him about the name.

Instead, Ryou held up his hands. “Fine, though since you call me Bakura, I will call you Ishtar.” The yami - Ishtar - snorted and turned away. “Here,” Ryou said as he dug into his bag. “I brought you a blanket. Your cloak won’t be warm enough tonight.”

“I don’t want it.”

“And yet you need it.” He held it out. “Stop fighting me. I don’t want anything from you. I’m not asking you to be something you’re not. I… I don’t want you to die. Again. So take the blanket and shut up.”

Ishtar swallowed. “You’re not the weakling your yami made you out to be.” He grabbed the blanket and snatched it from Ryou, pressing it and the remaining bagels against his stomach.

“He learned that. Before the end.”

“He didn’t…?”

Ryou shook his head. “If the Shadows sent him back too, I haven’t found him.” His phone beeped in his pocket and his eyes flew wide as he checked it. “Crap! I have to go. Bye, Ishtar!”

He snorted, tucking himself on the ground behind the dumpster. “Later, Bakura.”

Over the next few weeks, Ryou continued to hunt down Ishtar wherever he tried to hide himself. Delivering food, clothes, and a bag to keep everything in, Ryou took care of Ishtar. Slowly, Ishtar stopped defending himself from Ryou’s kindness, listening as he spoke of his classes, his latest Monster World campaign, and deeper topics, such as his family. The first time Ryou mentioned his mother, Ishtar had walked away. When Ryou found him again a few days later, words tumbled from Ishtar’s lips about his home, his family, how maybe, maybe if his mother had lived, he wouldn’t exist but knowing that he would because the ritual still would have happened and he didn’t want to wish he didn’t exist, but in a way, he did.

That was the first time Ryou touched him, arms curled around his shoulders as Ishtar crumbled, hot tears spilling into Ryou’s hair.

Now, Ryou ran through the side streets of Domino, boots splashing through the puddles as the rain bounced off the umbrella over his head. He mentally berated himself for not paying better attention to the weather. It was spring; of course, it would rain. Why hadn’t he thought of that? His dash only slowed at the sound of his name. “…Ishtar?”

Huddled under the blanket Ryou had given him, the hood of his cloak heavy over his head, Ishtar peeked out from the doorway he’d taken shelter in. “Over here.” He looked miserable, bedraggled and tired, glancing behind him. “At least until these assholes make me move again.”

“No, no, come here.” Ryou walked over to him, careful not to splash him though it seemed like a lost cause at this point. He held out his hand and braced himself to tug Ishtar to his feet. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here faster. I brought you an umbrella.” Ryou dug into the side pocket of his bag, offering it. His brow creased with concern as Ishtar opened the umbrella over his head, the reprieve from the rain doing nothing to make him any less soaked. Ryou reached up and used the hem of his sleeve to gently dry Ishtar’s face. “I’d take you for a cuppa but I think we better get you and your clothes dried. Come on.” He turned, heading back the way he’d come in such a hurry.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Home.”


End file.
